Even the
obliteration of one eye by the printer could only hamper but not
destroy his dear face.
"Barbara," mother said sharply. "I am speaking. Are you
being sulkey?"
"Pardon me, mother," I said in my gentlest tones. "I was
but dreaming." And as she made no reply, but rang the bell
visciously, I went on, pursuing my line of thought. "Mother,
were you ever in Love?"
"Love! What sort of Love?"
I sat up and stared at her.
"Is there more than one sort?" I demanded.
"There is a very silly, schoolgirl Love," she said, eyeing
me, "that people outgrow and blush to look back on."
"Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Do you blush to look back on it?"
Mother rose and made a sweeping gesture with her right arm.
"I wash my hands of you!" she said. "You are impertanent
and indelacate. At your age I was an inocent child, not
troubleing with things that did not concern me. As for Love, I
had never heard of it until I came out."
"Life must have burst on you like an explosion," I
observed. "I suppose you thought that babies----"
"Silense!" mother shreiked.
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